


For the Record

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Misfits, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Alisha thinks there’s something strange about the older guy who’s sentenced to community service, it’s nothing to the strangeness of the hyper-observant man who comes looking for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Record

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : Though Series 2 for Misfits, Series 1 for Sherlock  
>  **Warnings** : lewd language and jokes about paedophiles  
>  **A/N** : Written for [](http://rosepetal9.livejournal.com/profile)[**rosepetal9**](http://rosepetal9.livejournal.com/) for [](http://xover-exchange.livejournal.com/profile)[**xover_exchange**](http://xover-exchange.livejournal.com/) 2011\. Thanks to [](http://jaune-chat.livejournal.com/profile)[**jaune_chat**](http://jaune-chat.livejournal.com/) for beta-ing , and [](http://aurilly.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://aurilly.livejournal.com/)**aurilly** for conspiring to get me hooked on Misfits.  
> 

 

“Who’s the grandpa?” Kelly asked.

Alisha turned away from her work to look. The man in the orange jumpsuit that the probation worker was leading toward them didn’t look familiar, and he certainly looked too old for juvenile detention.

Nathan shrugged, and added a little artistic curl to the pattern of paint on the community centre wall. The rocket ship he was meant to be painting was looking more and more like a penis.

“Got a special dispensation to do community service instead of paying his fine,” Simon said. He kept his eyes on his stretch of wall.

“How d’you know that?” Curtis left off his own painting to give Simon a sharp look.

“Overheard,” muttered Simon.

“What, watchin’ him get dressed in the locker room, were ya?” Nathan gave Simon a nasty leer.

Alisha flicked her brush at Nathan, getting spatters of white paint all over his orange jumpsuit. “Oops.”

“Hey!” Nathan looked down at his white-flecked outfit. “People’ll get the wrong idea!” He considered. “Or the right idea, I guess.”

“Shush, here they come,” Kelly said.

“Alright, you lot.” The latest probation worker, the tall, bored one, waved a hand at the man beside him. “One day only, you’ve got yourselves an older, wiser, just as useless to society companion.”

“Thanks for that.” The man managed a flat smile. Next to the probation worker, he seemed quite short. Though he was certainly older than the five young offenders, Alisha thought he had a certain softness about him that went against his being a career criminal.

“Paint, brushes, wall. Inspiring mural.” The probation worker waved a hand. “Go on.”

“Right.” The new guy picked up paint tools as the probation worker walked off.

Nobody else was in a hurry to get back to work. “So.” Nathan leaned against the wall of the community centre. “You a paedophile, then?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Kelly punched him in the shoulder. “Wouldn’t give a paedophile community service with us lot.”

“Right, because this bureaucracy is such a shining example of efficiency.” Nathan snorted.

“So, what you get pinched for, then?” Kelly asked, turning to the stranger.

He stuck his brush in a can of paint and drew a line down the wall. “I was caught graffiti-ing the National Gallery.”

“A real rebel.” Alisha rolled her eyes.

“I’m a bit of an artist myself.” Nathan gestured grandly to his stretch of wall.

“What about you lot?” The stranger raised an eyebrow at Nathan. “Paedophile?”

“Nyyyyy, hilarious, you are.” Nathan pointed to each of the group in turn. “Drunk driver, brawling chav, drug addict, pyromaniac.” He jabbed his finger into his own chest. “Misunderstood.”

“’E vandalized a bowlin’ alley,” snapped Kelly.

“You have a name?” Alisha asked.

“John,” said the man, a bit warily. “Have you lot got names?”

“I’m not tellin’ him anything!” Nathan grabbed Alisha’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t either. Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to talk to strangers? Even if he does offer you sweeties!”

“Right. Nice to meet you.” John picked up a can of paint and his brush and took himself off to a far corner of the wall.

As she went back to painting, Alisha watched the guy—John—out of the corner of her eye. His phone buzzed every few minutes—almost as often as her own. He’d pull the phone out of his pocket, read the message, and smile. Sometimes he’d type a quick reply, but mostly he just read what was sent.

“That your girl that keeps texting you?” she asked.

“What? No.” John inclined is his head toward her phone. “That yours?”

“No.” She tucked her phone into the baggy pocket of her jumpsuit. With a few careless strokes of paint, she moved down the wall a bit. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

John clutched his brush hard and gave her a narrow look. “I’m not actually a paedophile.”

Alisha returned a smirk. “And I wasn’t offering.”

“No, no girlfriend.” His amused smile came back. “Not really my area.”

“Oh.” Before Alisha could inquire further, Simon appeared beside her, silent as a ghost. For some reason, his appearance didn’t startle her. “Hey,” she said. It amazed her how stealthily he could move, though it shouldn’t really, she supposed.

“What are you talking about?” Simon asked.

“Barry!” Nathan bellowed from the opposite end of the wall. “Stop lustin’ after that old man and help me paint the rest of this enormous fanny!”

“That’s meant to be a volcano,” Kelly said.

“You’re stiflin’ my artistic impulses!” Nathan threw up his hands in proper dramatic fashion. “Is it any wonder so many youth turn to a life of crime?”

“Sod off.” Kelly flicked paint at him, Nathan retaliated with his own brush, and soon the whole operation had deteriorated into a paint fight.

While ducking behind Simon to avoid a lobbed paint roller, Alisha saw someone approaching. “Hey!” she shouted. “Cut it out!”

Nathan poked his head out from behind the paint tray he’d been using as a shield. “Who’s this toff?”

“Oh no,” John breathed.

Alisha turned to look at John. “What, you know him?”

“John!” The man stalked toward them in a black coat that flapped about him like a superhero cape. Clothes like that-- _face_ like that—he wasn’t from around here.

“He’s my, uh, probation worker,” John said.

“Probation workers do _not_ dress like that,” Kelly said under her breath.

“John.” He swirled to a stop next to the unpainted part of the wall. “Come along. We’ve got a case.”

“So you said.” John picked up his paintbrush again. “Go have at it.”

“Change out of that ridiculous outfit. Time is of the essence.”

“I’m not going.” John slapped paint on the wall and began painting with more force than was strictly necessary. “I have to finish out the day to clear my record. Sod off.”

“Why are you being so difficult? I’ll have Lestrade clear this up, if your criminal record is so very important to you.”

“Actions have consequences, Sherlock,” John said through gritted teeth. “You can’t ignore the rules—the _law_ \--whenever it suits you.”

“His name’s _Sherlock_?” Nathan crowed. He slapped Simon on the back. “And I thought Barry was a stupid name!”

“It’s not my name,” Simon said.

Sherlock turned his attention to Nathan, and then his eyes swept over all five of them. Alisha felt his scrutiny almost like a physical touch, and she shuddered.

“I see.” Sherlock looked back to John. “You’d rather spend your time with criminals?”

“Perhaps I’ll learn something about your methods.” John dragged his brush harder down the wall.

“Oh please,” Sherlock sniffed. “You’ve been here a quarter of an hour at least, and I imagine you haven’t learned anything of use. Tell me what you’ve observed.”

“I’m not playing this game.” John glanced over at the others, who were looking on with interest. “You may want to run. Save yourselves.”

“Nah,” Nathan said. “But do I have time to get some popcorn?”

“Allow me.” Sherlock turned on his heel and strode down the line past each of the five teenagers. He pointed first at Curtis. “You’ve recently eliminated a long-standing drug habit.” Then Kelly. “You have a history of violent outbursts.” Then Nathan. “You have deep-seated father issues, and are likely estranged from both parents.” He stopped in front of Simon and Alisha. “And you two are shagging each other rotten.” He whirled around to face John. “There, you see. Nothing more to be learned here.”

“Sherlock,” John admonished.

Alisha’s heart pounded, sounding unbearably loud in her ears. She stared at Sherlock. He couldn’t know that. How could he know that?

“I’m not sleeping with her!” Simon gave Alisha a look of wide-eyed panic. “I mean she’s not sleeping with me!”

“In his wildest dreams, maybe,” Nathan said. “And if we’re talking about issues, who’s the ponce who has to beg his boyfriend to leave community service to spend time with him? Someone’s a pretty anti-social influence.”

“For a sociopath, he’s actually quite well adjusted,” John sighed. He threw down his brush and turned to Sherlock. “Will you leave them alone if I come with you?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said immediately.

“Fine.” John turned to the others, and gave them a pleasant wave. “Nice to meet you.” Sherlock strode away, coat billowing. John started to follow, then turned back. “Sorry about... all that.” They disappeared around the side of the building.

“Well.” Kelly shrugged. “It’s a nice change from people trying to kill us.”

“Or people we end up having to kill,” Nathan said. They grabbed their brushes and went back to the mural.

Alisha picked up her brush, too, only to see Simon standing between her and the wall. “Sorry about that.” Simon stared at his feet. “People shouldn’t talk about you that way.”

“Yeah.” Alisha twirled her brush between her fingers.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t.... I mean...” Simon shook his head. “I didn’t want it to sound like I wasn’t... Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just forget it.” Alisha reached out to squeeze his arm, over the fabric of his jumpsuit.

“Right, sorry.” Simon retreated a few steps to his stretch of wall.

“Simon,” Alisha called. He turned halfway back. “He was right about the others, though.”

“Yeah, he was.” Simon looked up to meet her eyes.

“Strange, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He looked at her intently, as if trying to read past the meaning of her words.

“That’s it.” Alisha wrenched her eyes away and focused on the wall. “Just thought it was weird.”

Alisha went back to painting. After a moment, she saw Simon do the same. Good. He hadn’t noticed anything. She was starting to think maybe he never would. Her phone buzzed with a text message. She pulled out her phone and flipped it open to read what she’d received from an unknown number:

_If you ask him, he’ll say yes. Idiot. – SH_

Alisha looked up at Simon. He’d been watching her, but he quickly dropped his eyes when she glanced his way. Alisha smiled.

 

 

**-END-**


End file.
